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TRADITIONS 

OF THE 

MIAMI VALLEY 

ILLUSTRATED 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI 
VALLEY, SONGS OF THE 
WEST AND OTHER POEMS 

By 

'BENJAMIN S^LDUS "PEMBERTON 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

By MARY A. KYLE 



Press Of the 

United Brethren Publishing Souse 

Dayton, Ohio 



Copyright 1912 

All Rights Reserved 

By 
Benjamin Aldus Pemberton 

West Milton, Ohio 



f n A.^if>3fi9 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

PAGE 

The Cholera Year 17 

Mary Tharpe 23 

The Gladdest Day 69 

The Names at Ludlow Falls 73 

A Dream of Childhood 78 

The Departed 82 

Ezra Dey 84 

The Beginning of Dayton 87 

To the Miami 94 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Voices Gone 101 

A Pale Rose 103 

The Thrush and the Katydid 105 

Eternal Providence 109 

The Thrush 112 

The Scroll of Time 115 

What Does Halley Say 118 



SOXGS OF THE WEST. 

PAGE 

The Land of the A\'estern Plain 125 

The Chinook Wind 128 

Blount Baker 133 

The Salmon 136 



ilttb^x t0 3HluHlratt0«H 



PAGE 

Frontispiece — The Miami As It Used to Be . . 6 
"She zvould meet her father coming, zvhen his 
long day's zvork was o'er" 7 

"Many newmade graves displayed the ravage 
of the scourge" 17 

"She ivas four years old in August" . 23 

"Up above her lived a squirrel that zvould coax 

and mock her there" 27 

"She then played within the zvild-zvood as she 

did the year before" 33 

"For the noise was but the Indian wading 

through a western stream" 37 

"Deer and turkeys passed before them" 41 

"He then zvrapped her in his blanket" 45 

"And her mother told her stories: there were 

many on her tongue" 50 

"He was ever on the zvarpath or upon the hunt- 
ing ground" 55 

"When they danced the dance of zvar" 59 

"And one day in bleak December came a white 

man old and gray" 65 

"Ludlozv's waters are singing azvay" 75 



PAGE 

"I saw the same old zvooden bridge that stood 

so many years" ' 79 

''But still its waters shine and flash and pause 

and rest and flozv" 89 

The Miami as it is nozv at Dayton 95 

Tlie Miami near Troy 97 

"And if I cease in winter time, then she is lone 

and cold" 129 

"And they sing upon their journeys front the 

mountains to the sea' . 131 



MlxxBttntth 




THE CHOLERA YEAR. 

May ^Jiami A^alle}', with her hixury and 
store, 

Not forget her pioneers who Hved in days of 
vore. 

They struggled in the wilderness beneath the tower- 
ing oak. 

They cut away the forest with their strong and 
sturdy stroke. 



1/ 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEV. 



They cleared our fields. They opened roads be- 
neath the giant trees. 

And in the forest wrestled with the aborig- 
ines. 

They lived and loved in days gone bv. though now 
forever gone, 

They left for us the fairest land that ever sun 

shone on. 
History tells about their wars and heroes with 

their glories ; 

May tradition, then, sing on and keep alive the 
stories : — 

In a wild deep forest, when the country all was 
new, 

AAdth now and then a clearing that would let the 

sunlight through, 
A merrv company convened just at the close of 

day. 

To spend some time at revelry and dance the hours 
away. 

Girls were women in those days, and were as grace- 
ful then 

As ever attended a social ball or stepped to the 
violin. 



18 



THE CHOLERA YEAR. 



The hickory torch light in the yard, the candle light 

within, 
Shone on fair brows and bright blue eyes and tall 

and stalwart men ; 
For men were giants in those days, and handsome, 

too, were they, 
As ever convened at eventide, to dance the hours 

away. 
The violin, the gliding feet, the laugh of sweet 

sixteen, 
Awoke the stillness of the night all in one sweet 

refrain. 

The call rang out with merriment ; the night was 

starry clear. 
The forest trees took up the strain of harmony and 

cheer. 
The hours rolled on ; the music ceased ; the dancers 

took a rest, 
And told the old traditions that their fathers brought 

out west ; 
And on invitation, ere the midnight hour had 

flown, 
The violinist drew his bow and played a cholera 

tune. 



19 



TRADITIOXS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 



"Listen I Do you hear the noise that breaks upon 
the ear, 

So strange and weird and lonely?" and all cheeks 
turn pale with fear. 

"Toward the barn we hear it. Can it be the horse ^ 
neigh?" 

"Is it only wolves that may be howling far 
away?" 

Brave Martin says, "Let joy go on; no guest need 

care or fear; 
For noises in this wilderness are nothing strange 

to hear." 

Ere another tune is played upon the violin. 

Plainer than vibrating strings, the noise breaks in 
again. 

"It foretells war or danger." "It foreshadows 
death to come." 

And greater still their terror grows. "Let us ad- 
journ," say some. 

They reached their homes before the dawn; but 
ere the week was o'er, 

Many a face had disappeared to be seen on earth 
no more. 



20 



THE CHOLERA YEAR. 



They danced with love and merriment, so heartily, 
so hale ; 

Their eyes so soon were glassily set ; their cheeks 
were cold and pale : 

The angel of death came through the land with 
sorrow bitter and deep, 

And breathed into their nostrils a long and dream- 
less sleep. 

There was many a broken circle ; there was many 
a heart that yearned. 

And many a child that cried in vain for a step that 
never returned. 

Many newmade graves displayed the ravage of the 
scourge. 

And the good and kindly whippoorwill would sing 
their funeral dirge. 

Around their graves in early fall the brown leaves 
wove a wreath, 

As token of their sympathy to dear ones under- 
neath. 

The snow that fell when winter came, kissed many 
a newmade mound. 

Whispering of heaven's love to dear ones in the 
ground. 



21 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 



Nature never will forget the loved ones that are 
dead ; 

She also scattered flowers in spring above their 
lowly bed. 

The one who drew the bow^ that night, lived many 
years since then ; 

But never more had he been known to play a 
violin. 



22 




MARY THARPE. 

In a new and well built cabin up in Twin Creek's 
lonely wild, 

Sat a gentle loving mother watching o'er her new- 
born child. 

In her fond imagination, she saw her a child at 

play, 
She saw her become a woman, she saw her a queen 

some dav. 



23 



TRADITTOXS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

"Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber; holy angels 

guard thy bed," 
Sang the mother as she listened for the father's 
homeward tread ; 

And the wind breathed through the verdure as the 

great trees waved aloof 
Their long arms in graceful gesture up above the 

cabin roof ; 

And the forest, too, was singing from the branches 

upon high ; 

And it sang this song of nature for the baby's 
lullaby : 

" Sleep ! O sleep, dear baby ! 
Sleep and live and grow ; 

But the years befcre thee. 
No one now can know. 

Of the coming winters 

That will cool thy brow. 
Xo one knows the number 

Or can count them now. 

*' Sleep! O sleep, dear baby! 
No one knows the life 
Of a newborn child 
In this world of strife. 



24 



MARY THARPE. 

May thy days be cheerful ; 

May thy time be long, 
Full of joy and pleasure. 

Full of love and song. 

" Then sleep on, dear baby ! 
Thy life may be well. 

Or of deepest sorrow ; 
No one can foretell : 

No one knows the future : 
No one can foresee 

Things which are awaiting 
And in store for thee. 

'' Sleep ! O sleep, dear baby ! 
Many highly born 

Take a lowly station 
Flumble and forlorn. 

Others born down lowly 
Without wealth or name. 

Leave their lives on pages 
Of immortal fame. 

" Sleep ! Then sleep, dear baby 
Luckless born or blest, 
Nature will receive and 
Fold thee to her breast. 



25 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

Round thy life most precious, 

Storms may gather wild ; 
But the God of Nature 

Will watch o'er his child." 

Round about, a savage forest with its shadows dark 
and lone, 

Stretched away in boundless distance to the far 
and wild unknown ; 

There the tall tree wall around them let the mid- 
dry sunshine through 

To a clesring near the cabin where some corn and 
pumpkins grew ; 

And the father's ax resounded over Twin Creek's 
gurgling rills. 

He returned unto his baby when he heard the whip- 
poorwills. 

When he came home every evening he would rock 

or hold her then. 
He would feel his burdens lighten when he saw her 

face again. 

She grew fair and strong and healthy as she played 

around the door. 
She would meet her father coming when his long 

day's work was o'er ; 



26 



MARY THARPE. 

And her eyes were blue as flax flowers blowing in 

the sunny field ; 
And her clothing was of linen which her mother 

spun and reeled ; 

And her dolly was a pumpkin that she loved and 

dressed and fed. 
She would hear its prayers each evening ; then 

would kiss it in its bed. 

Round her playhouse in the wild-wood flowers grew 

with colors rare ; 
Up above her lived a squirrel that would coax and 

mock her there ; 

And she could not catch the squirrel ; it was wise 

and cute and sharp ; 
But she said, "What is your name, sir? Mine, you 

know, is Mary Tharpe." 

In the cold lone nights of winter she would play 

before the fire. 
Although she was ever busy, yet, she seemed to 

never tire. 

When the long late hours grew weary, and her 

evening prayer was said. 
Then the mother tucked her daughter in the little 

trundle bed. 

29 



TR-\DITIOXS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

One night when her mother kissed her. having put 

her in her bed. 
She said, ■■^^lIat's an Indian, mother?" and her 

mother laughed and said, 



"It is very strange, my baby, that yon ask a thing 

like that. 
Bin an Indian is a savage with great feathers in his 

liat." 



She was four years old in Atignst ; and when early 

autumn flowers 
Had displayed their countless colors tip above their 

leafy bowers, 

She then played within the \vild-wood as she did 

the year before : 
There her mcther watched her swinging on a grape 

vine near the door. 



And the sini again was shining down among the 



tasseled corn 
the forest le 
when she was born : 



And the forest leaves were singing as they sang 



And the pumpkin vines were rimning in the stumpy 

clearing lot — 
Then the mctlier called her daughter, and she called 

and heard her not ; 

50 



MARY THARPE. 

And their neighbor's child was missing. They then 

hunted all the chy, 
In a hope to find the children that so strangely 

passed away ; 

And they stood on logs at night time ; and they 

called for Mary there ; 
Rut their answer was a wolf cry with the owl's hoot 

everywhere. 

There are two streams like twin sisters ; side by 

side they live and play ; 
Then they join to greet Miami, ever singing on their 

way. 

Of the mystery so hidden, it was they that knew 

it all; 
And they gave a mumbling answer to the hunter's 

anxious call. 

All the waters have their stories, and they keep 

them long and well ; 
They have treasured them for ages ; as a rule, they 

never tell ; 

But along the edge of Twin Creek, underneath a 

willow shade. 
Lay a foot print by the water that a moccasin had 

made. 



31 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

Every year the sun shines brightly down among the 

tasseled corn, 
Where the pumpkin vines are running with new 

dolly babies born ; 

But the dollies have no mother. In a playhouse 

weeds grow wild ; 
And a highchair still stands empty, and a father 

has no child. 

Almost in the very door-yard, while the children 

were at play, 
There three Indians had found them and had carried 

both away ; 

Then they parted from each other that the trail 

could not be known. 
Mary Tharpe was carried onward by a savage all 

alone. 

Over logs and through the bushes where the briers 

were growing wild. 
With his steps still gliding onward, sped the Indian 

with the child. 

Birds peCjt^ed down among the branches, and they 

sang and watched them there, 
And they wondered why a savage could be with a 

child so fair ; 



Z2 



MARY THARPE. 

And the squirrels would bark above them from the 

tree tops tall and wild, 
And they wondered at the contrast of the savage 

and the child. 

Vines hung down from limbs above them, and the 

forest grew more lone, 
As he still kept going onward toward a lost and 

grim unknown. 

In his cap were many feathers, and they streamed 

down o'er his back. 
He would wind around through water so no hounds 

could follow track. 

Still the child was carried onward. Twilight shades 

fell dark and deep. 
From her mouth a gag was taken, and she sobbed 

herself to sleep. 

Though the night grew dark and darker, yet the 

savage kept his vv^ay ; 
And his journey was as rapid in the night time as 

the day. 

He had no need of a compass ; all the points he 

told with ease, 
By the mosses ever clinging to the north side of the 

trees. 



35 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

Through the openings over rivers he could see the 

milky way, 
Or the path his soul will travel when it leaves its 

shell of clay. 

Mary heard a noise of slushing, and she thought 

that she was home ; 
She again beheld her mother scrubbing out the 

cabin room ; 

But awoke within the night time, and then found it 

all a dream ; 
For the noise w:s but the Indian wading through a 

western stream. 

Swiftly round him rushed the current as he scooped 

his hand therein. 
Dipping water as she drank it. She then dropped 

to sleep again ; 

And her sleep was calm and peaceful ; then again 

at morning dawn, 
She was with the Indian savage ; and they still were 

moving on ; 

And they neither stopped nor rested ; but kept ever 

on their way ; 
And the morn was bright and cheerful as it ushered 

in the day. 



35 



MARY THARPE. 

At the dawn of early morning, they could hear the 

forest ring; 
For there is no place too lonely for the birds to 
play and sing. 

She would cry and call for mother ; then would 

brighten up again, 
And w^ould w^atch the birds and squirrels and the 

tireless Indian ; 

But her frightfulness did lessen toward the savage 

on the way ; 
In a wilderness so tangled even he seemed 

company. 

Deer and turkeys passed before them, and her jour- 
ney seemed a dream ; 

Wild and weird were many wonders that she ne'er 
before had seen. 

Hanging limbs would brush their faces as they 

traveled on their way, 
And they were beside a river tow^ard the ending of 

the day. 

There the savage sat and pondered o'er his journey 

on before. 
With his gun and child and hatchet, also other 

things he bore ; 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

And he thought his load was heavy, and he won- 
dered if 'twere best 

That he add another treasure to his scalp string 
in the west; 

Then the child seemed most confiding, and she said, 

"Why do you roam? 
I can hear my mother calling, I would like to go 

back home." 

He knew not a word she uttered, but he knew her 

heart and mind, 
And he thought of a sad mother weeping lonely far 

behind. 

He had fought in many battles. He was savage, 

cruel, and wild ; 
But his hard rough heart felt tender toward that 

lone and helpless child. 

He remembered that some sugar in his food-pouch 

had been placed ; 
Then he emptied out the remnant, and he gave the 

child a taste. 

There he lingered on his journey, and he soon ob- 
tained a fawn ; 

He then started fire by friction, and he roasted it 
thereon ; 



40 



MARY THARPE. 

And they feasted there together till their hunger 

was no more, 
And they drank the river water, and she slept upon 

the shore. 

He then wrapped her in his blanket ; like a father 

there was he, 
And he dropped asleep while sitting with his back 

against a tree. 

He was known as Logahoddin, and his bravery held 

a place 
With the bravest and the stoutest of that stout and 

hardy race. 

Down at Blue Lick, in Kentucky, he had fought in 

victory there. 
He had reckoned well with Harmer. He had helped 

to crush St. Clair. 

He had fought at Fallen Timbers with his people 

in retreat ; 
And he had a vast experience both in victory and 

defeat. 

From the Great Lakes to Kentucky, that man's 

battle-ground was wide; 
And it touched the Mississippi flowing with its 

mighty tide ; 



43 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

And the scratches that a panther left upon him, 

still were plain ; 
And a bite made there by bruin : many wolf marks, 

too, were seen. 

There were scars all o'er his body : there were many 
on his face. 

And they showed where many conflicts left the im- 
prints of their trace. 



He knew all the streams and country, fought and 



hunted all his life, 
e knew bet 
and knife. 



Xone knew better how to handle gtui or tomahawk 



All the night the wolves were quarreling over rem- 
nants of the deer : 

But that man of many battles felt no peril, knew no 
fear. 



One hand holding to the baby and th^ other to the 

knife. 
\A'oe to wolf or bear or panther that should try to 

take her life. 

He avv'oke within the morning at the light of early 

dawn. 
He then picked up gun and prisoner, and again he 

journeyed on : 



44 



MARY THARPE. 

And she thought they were returning as they trav- 
eled onward then ; 

And she watched to see the clearing of her father's 
home again. 

Still his footsteps led him onward as they did the 

day before ; 
And again they camped at night time, and they 

journeyed on once more. 

Then the Indian's step was quicker, and his bur- 
dens all seemed light, 

As the trees let in the sunshine ; and a river came 
in sight ; 

And the Indian shouted, "\A'abash ! Lovely river of 

the west ! 
Hail. O hail unto the AA'^ abash — glorious stream of 

peace and rest !" 

He then traveled to a village o'er a trail worn plain 

and bare. 
And he went into his wigwam, and Hoanda met him 

there. 

Lone and patient lived Hoanda, Logahoddin's 

dusky wife. 
Always trusting his returning, happy in domestic 

life. 



47 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI Vx\LLEY. 

Not a word he said unto" her as he handed her the 

child ; 
But she said, "Where did you get her?" as she gazed 

on her and smiled. 

"She is from Aliami \'alley, and a gift to you," he 
said, 

''May she have the toys and clothing of our daugh- 
ter who is dead." 

"I am thankful for the present. I will name the 

babe this day, 
After our own child, Onata, who last winter passed 

away." 

"She can help you at your labor; she can cheer 

away your grief ; 
She can make your lone life happy, as Onata" — 

meaning leaf. 

Very curious the people, everybody in the place. 
Came to see Hoanda's present of the white and 
hated race. 

Had he trapped and brought a beaver or a young 

bear home with him, 
Or a live deer tied with tethers, they would not 

have noticed them. 



48 



MARY THARPE. 

Said an old gray man of battles, "She looks not like 

they could fight." 
Then a squaw said, looking at her, "Wdiat can make 

her skin so white?" 

She soon played around the wigwam as she used to 

play at home ; 
Still she loved the tangled forest, where the wild 

flowers ever bloom ; 

And she soon could speak their language with a 

graceful air of ease ; 
And she loved her Indian mother, and she always 

tried to please. 

She would help make clothes in winter, when the 

days were cold and drear ; 
And they used a bone-made needle from the ankle 

of a deer. 

\\^hen they heard the springtime music of the robin, 

thrush, and lark, 
They would catch the sap for sugar in their vessels 

made of bark. 

They raised corn and beans and squashes, gathered 

wild nuts from the wood ; 
And they stored them in the autumn, that they might 

have winter food ; 



49 




And her mother told her stories ; there were many 

on her tongue ; 
She told her about a river where she lived when she 

was young; 

That ''the tribes are still Aliami, though we see the 

stream no more ; 
In its waters now are pictures of pale faces on the 

shore. 



50 



MARY THARPE. 



"When a child I loved its waters. I was born upon 

the bank. 
I have played within the shadows of its lindens 

tall and rank. 



"Long ago we left Miami to the White J\lan and 

Shawnee. 
Now onr tribes are on this river, on the Eel, and 

the Alanmee. 

"Since we left that lovely valley we have not been 

back again ; 
I now love the graceful W^ abash as I loved that 

river then." 



Mary soon became an Indian in her acts and tastes 

and ways, 
And her thoughts and memory drifted from her 

home of early days ; 

But her cacs were blue as ever, and her cheeks were 

rosy fair, 
And the wind was always playing with her soft and 

light brown hair. 

She wore clothes made out of deer skins, nicely 

worked in beads and flowers, 
She had helped her mother make them in the long 

cold winter hours ; 



-51 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEV. 

And her moccasins were lovely, of a soft and velvet 

gray : 
They were made from smoothest buckskin in the 

most elaborate way. 

She had fnrs of mink and beaver, which were 

downy, soft and rare : 
And her l^cd was of the brown leaves and of ro!:es 

of fox and bear ; 

And her food was of the wild deer, maple sugar, 

and corn bread. 
And the fishes from the Wabash, with wild nuts 

the forest shed ; 

And her playmates Indian children ; she to them was 

kind and good ; 
And her bath tub was the ^\'abash ; her gymnasium 

the wood; 

And she never looked in school books ; never studied 

twos and threes, 
Neither did she sit in prison pounding on piano 

keys. 

In the west she had her pleasures, for she loved 

the tangled wild. 
She was dear to all who knew her, and she was a 



graceful child. 



52 



MARY THARPE. 

She would pluck and gather flowers that the Spirit 

planted there. 
No one said to her, "I own them," and no one did 

seem to care. 

Nature's gifts were free and equal ; and no bound- 
aries were laid out 

Through the land within the village, or the forest 
round about. 

There a rent man never bothered ; no one ever 

heard of him ; 
For no one did own the acres, save He who created 

them. 

Logahoddin in his wigwam was not very often 

found ; 
He was ever on the warpath, or upon the hunting 

ground. 

Up above his rustic bedstead, she had noticed some- 
thing swing ; 

And it hung within the corner, dangling there upon 
a string. 

As she watched the campfire burning on a cold, 
lone winter night. 

She said, "What can that be, mother, that is swing- 
ing in the light?" 



S3 



TRADTTIOXS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

"Oh ! that is a string of honor, and it makes your 

father great ; 
Had there been no scalps upon it, I would not have 

been his mate. 

''Oh! it tells of daring battles, and it tells of deeds 

of fame, 
And it gives unto your father a renowned and 

glorious name. 

"Should you find the wigwam burning, let it perish 

in the flame 
Until you have rescued from it that great emblem 

of his fame. 

"He could have been made a chieftain, at the time 

that Turtle died, 
But he cared not for the honor, yet his fame is far 

and wide. 

"Every scalp there has a history, making known his 

valor bold. 
And thev tell of awful battles that would make 

your blood run cold ; 

"And vour father as a hunter is the bravest of his 

clan ; 
For he carries home more bear skins than does any 

other man." 



54 



MARY THARPE. 

Mary fondly loved the Wabash with a love forever 

true ; 
She soon learned to swim its waters and to row the 

bark canoe. 

Never were canoes more lovely, with such lightness, 

form and grace, 
As were made by Logahoddin of that crafty, artful 

race. 

Thus, he took a barken peeling that was long and 

very wide, 
\\^hich was either elm or birchen ; then he smoothed 

the outer side ; 

And he trimmed it, and he shaped it to its splint 

and ribby frame ; 
And he sewed it then securely to the top rim of 

the same ; 

And the prow and stern he splinted ; then he sewed 

them both with care. 
It would glide upon the water like a wild swan 

swimming there. 

Mary knew the mighty Turtle, who had argued till 

he died. 
That the Indian's true interest was not with the 

British side. 



57 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

She had seen the great Teciimseh come and lead the 

warriors forth ; 
And she wept o'er his disaster in the battle of the 

north. 

She would shout and cheer tlie soldiers when they 

danced the dance of war. 
She helped fix their food for journeys when the}' 

traveled long and far ; 

And she loved the festive dances with their gay, 

tumultuous wa3's. 
She would dance unto the Spirit on the great 
thanksgiving days. 

\\'hen she had become a woman she was graceful, 

tall, and fair ; 
And was still within the keeping of her Indian 

mother's care. 

Mary's suitor was a chieftain, and he was a hand- 
some man ; 

He was known among ]\Iiamis as a leader of his 
clan ; 



So her foster mother gave her to the chieftain as 

his wife. 
Fie was also known as Dixon, and he led a gallant 

life. 



58 



Mary thar^e. 

Bidding farewell to her mother, she then left her 

home one day ; 
And she went awa}- with Dixon to the Missis- 

sinowa ; 

There for him she did her beadwork as she had 
been early taught, 

And his moccasins and mittens were most exquis- 
itely wrought. 

From her wigwam by the river she would watch 

the waters play ; 
And she loved the giant poplars of the Alissis- 

sinowa. 

Years and seasons did not linger, for no time can 

ever stay, 
And her age was making wrinkles, and her hair 

was turning gray. 

Still she loved the wild deep forest, with a love that 

does not die. 
Unto her the charms of nature lessened not as years 

went by; 

But the onward march of empire ceased not, neither 

did it rest ; 
And the hunting ground grew smaller as the white 

man settled west. 



61 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEV. 

When the Indian wars were over, with their car- 
nage fierce and wild.. 

From a white man on the border Tharpe got word 
about his child; 

And one day in bleak December came a white man 

old and gray : 
An interpreter was with him, to tell what he had 

to say ; 

And he said, "When but a baby you were lost within 

the wild. 
You were born back in Ohio. I at last have found 

my child. 

"I am from ^liami A'alley ; and I live where Twin 

Creeks play ; 
I at one time had a baby that most strangely went 

away ; 

'^A.nd we lay awake at night time when the wolves 

howled lone and wild ; 
And we wondered if it could be that they killed our 

darling child ; 

"And we saw some Indian footprints ; then we 

wondered if it were 
That some Indians had found her and had gone 

away with her. 

62 



MARY THARPE. 

"We have missed our baby daughter; all these years 

we have not known 
Whether you were dead or Hving, or could trace 

where you had gone. 

"I have come now to invite you, and to ask you to 

come home ; 
And your mother's heart wih gladden, if you will 

consent to come/' 

"I can never leave a wigwam for a house's pent- 



up room, 
n nevei 
home. 



I can never leave this forest and go east and feel at 



"I can never leave the people I have ever loved and 

known ; 
For their language is my language ; their religion 

is my own ; 

"And I love the festive dances, so if you will please 

forgive, 
I would rather stay here with them than to go back 

there and live. 

"Should I go to see my mother. Why! my English 

is so poor, 
I could be no comfort to her; for I could not 

talk to her. 



6Z 



Traditions of the Miami valley. 

"I am now too old for changes, I am here a chief- 
tain's wife. 

I remember only faintly of my early childhood 
life. 

"Tell her that my Indian mother was as kind as 

kind could be. 
Tell her that my Indian father always has been good 

to me. 

"Tell her that at festive dances I will there remem- 
ber her, 

And will dance and chant thanksgiving for the 
blessings unto her. 

"Tell her all of this in English so that she will 

understand. 
Tell her that I hope to meet her over in the Spirit 

Land ;" 

And she used her father kindly, but she said she 

would not come ; 
Though he argued and entreated, still, he could not 

bring her home. 

Every life must have some sorrow ; and when she 

was growing old, 
Dixon drank of the firewater, that the greedy traders 

sold. 



64 



MARY THARPE. 

Arar\' Tliarpe is gone forever, and her voice is 

heard no niore ; 
For she perished in the river and was buried on the 

shore. 

There they buried shawls and trinkets that she made 

with her own hand. 
With the best of food to Hve on till she reached the 

Spirit Land : 

And above her lowly pillow they then built a fire at 

night. 
In a hope to aid her spirit while it took its long, 

lone flight. 

Then around her lonel}' grave they danced the sad 

dance for the dead ; 
And the wild birds still are singing farewell songs 

above her bed. 

Her religion and her mother's, after all. were much 

the same : 
One would dance to the Great Being, while the 

other praised his name. 

One looked for a lovely mansion in a city clothed 

with light. 
Streets of gold, and walls of jasper, and for gates 

of pearly white. 



67 



TRADITIOXS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

One hoped for a wide, deep forest, with its great 

trees large and taU. 
That abounds with mighty rivers and with lakes 

and waterfall. 

And that has within its verdure many wild flowers 

growing there. 
Breathing imto her their fragrance, blending with 

their colors rare ; 

There to live within a wigwani and attend the fes- 

tals, too, 
And to hear again the wild birds and to row the 

bark canoe. 

They may meet and know each other, and enjoy the 

perfect peace 
Of a life that has no ending, where all wars and 

sorrows cease ; 

And one there may have her city, one her forest 

vast and tall ; 
For the world of the hereafter will be great enough 

for all. 



68 



THE GLADDEST DAY. 

The gladdest day of all the }Tar, to which my mem- 
ories cling, 

A\'as when we tapped the sugar trees, the first bright 
day in spring. 

All winter long, the fiinty ice had covered creek 
and rill. 

All winter long, the cold north wind had fanned with 
bitter chill ; 

And whistled with its blizzards through the tree 

tops tall and bleak, 
And blown around the farm house with a frenzied 

freezing shriek. 

All winter long, the drifting snow that fell from 
day to day, 

AA'as buried by another snow before it went away: 

One morn before the sun came up we heard a 
robin sing ; 

He sang the first great harmony to greet the coming- 
spring ; 

The wind had shifted from the north ; a southern 
breeze was felt, 

And where the dawning sunshine fell the snow be- 
gan to melt. 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 



The sun was warm and welcome as it ushered in 
the da}^ 

It Hfted the cold blanket that had hidden earth 

away. 
The barn-yard fowls took up the strain of merriment 

and mirth, 

The turkey gobbler strutting round as though he 
owned the earth. 

That morn we saw the oriole and heard the catbird 
sing. 

All nature seemed to greet with joy the first bright 
day of spring. 

The redbird showed his colors to the northern 
woods again. 

The ground squirrel sat and chatted o'er his hiber- 
nating den ; 

We heard the native sparrow in the tree tops over- 
head. 

We rinsed the earthen vessels ; then we hauled them 
on a sled ; 

And when we tapped the sugar trees, the nectar 
flowed like wine. 

And sparkled as it trickled in the warm and bright 
sunshine. 



70 



TPIE GLADDEST DAY 



A\> gathered in tlie harvest, and we boiled the treas- 
ure down, 

Which at first was fair and clear, but it soon had 
turned to brown. 

And then to radiant yellow ; we could see rich jewels 

gleam 
Within a pot of boiling gold beneath obscuring 

steam. 

The steam arose and wound and turned on wing and 

soared away ; 
And streaming through the furnace door we 

watched the bright light play. 
Lunch was roasted through the grate, and hearts 

beat \varm and light. 
Outdoor games were played around the sugar camp 

at night. 

The Red ^Nlan of the wilderness, who now has 
passed away, 

Held his festive dances here to celebrate this 

day. 
The bees may flit from flower to flower and garner 

in their sweets ; 
The western sun may shine upon a land of sugar 

beets ; 



71 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI ViVLLEY 



And cane grows sweet in Dixie land and in Ha- 
waiian breeze ;^ 

But we have here a treasure much more precious 
than all these : 

It drops from off the spiles in spring as soft as 
morning dew, 

And comes upon the gladdest day that nature ever 
knew. 




n 



THE NAMES AT LUDLOW FALLS. 

Ludlow waters are singing away, 

And leaping and dashing and throwing their spray 

On the rocks above they hurriedly creep 

And dance with the music and take their leap 

Over the limestone rock and slate, 

Into a pool where they loiter and wait 

To rest on their journey, then onward go 

In a hurry aw^ay to the river below. 

The woodbines love to hang and swing 
Down from the rocks where the mosses cling. 
Near where the waters dash and sing 
And fold and turn in a whirlpool ring; 
And along in the gorge below the falls. 
The vines climb up the dark stone walls ; 
And lindens and sycamores make a home 
Wherever the rocks will give them room. 



72 



T'.IE NAMES AT LUDLOW FALLS. 



The cataract looks like a -lieet of white. 
Seen far awav in the bright ^irnlight. 
Sparkling and flashing and streaming away 
Down from a wall that is old and gray. 
AlwaA's at work, and its work is play. 
Slowly chiselling the rock away : 
AlwaA"s descending- and comins,' back n.ever. 
Cnttiro- a pathway down to the river. 

The Indian lnnlter^. in days gone by. 
Have stood on the rocks where the mosses lie. 
And watched the cataract turning away 
And singing the song it is singing to-day. 
Have heard the same nmsic and r^een the splash, 
And watched the waters leap and dash. 
Counties^ \'ears have come and gone. 
And Ltidlow's waterfall ^till sings on. 

When 1 .-tan.d on tlie cliff where the woodbines cling, 

And hear the cataract tnrn and sing. 

And gaze down into the pool below. 

And watch the waters come and go. 

It cheers my sonl. and I rejoice; 

For the mtn-^ic of nature is God's own voice. 

Let great Xiagara pour and foam. 

lUit the -weete:^t waters arc close at home. 



74 



Traditions of the Miami valley. 



Above the cliff is the picnic ground, 

Where cedars are green the whole year round, 

With lawns asloping to the wall 

That rises above the waterfall : 

Here countless thousands come and go ; 

Some cut their names on the rocks below, 

But time and change and frost and spray, 

Are slowly erasing their names away : 

Nothing that's here is here to stay ; 
Even the rocks must pass away. 
All that is written on page or stone, 
Will be erased as time glides on. 
Our names may be, in the great unknown, 
Inscribed on a cliff more firm than stone, 
W^iere time or change or cataract's spray, 
]\Iay erase them never away. 




n 



A DREAM OF CHILDHOOD. 

Last night I h^d a lovely dream : I dreamed I stood 

alone 
Beside my native river, on a fair sweet day in 

Tune. 

Beneath a dear old sycamore where years ago I 
played. 

I watched the mcvir.g water, and I felt the cooling 
shade. 

The cares of life were lifted, and I was a child once 
more. 

The wavelets kissed my ankles as they did in days 
of yore. 

The rocks were all familiar there, in their accus- 
tomed place. 

And in the water's mirror I could see my childish 
face. 

I saw the same old wooden bridge that stood so 

many years. 
Again I heard th.e water as it whispered to the 

piers. 



78 



l:^M ^ ^ 




A DREAM OF CHILDHOOD. 



I saw the devirs-darningneedle o'er the rushy 

brim. 
I saw the wild flowers dip the tide, and watched the 

swallows skim. 

My joys were those of years gone by; and in my 
fond delight, 

I thought not of the morrow or of time's unceas- 
ing flight. 

I awoke within the tumult of the city's noisy 

din, 
And I heard the ceaseless grinding of the busy 

streets again; 

And my shadow in the mirror of the water passed 

away, 
And manhood's ceaseless burdens then again upon 

me lay. 




81 



The departed. 

In memory still our childhood lives : the brooks, the 
flowing river, 
The fields our fathers cleared, and trees, 
The voice of birds, the hum of bees, 

Remain with us forever. 

We'll ne'er forget the sunbeams gleaming through 
the sycamore ; 
The quiet river winding down 
Past mill and bridge and grove and town, 

We treasure as of yore. 

We ever will remember how we watched its waters 
play; 

We saw them glide and sweep along ; 

They sang for us their glad, glad song. 
As they went on their way. 

The things we loved in childhood's days we never 
will forget ; 
But dearer far of all of yore, 
Were loved ones that we see no more ; 

Our hearts cling to them yet. 



82 



THE DEPARTED. 



We hear them not ; we see them not, — look now 
where e'er we will. 
We loved the songs they used to sing, 
And with those songs fond memories cling 

That bind ns to them still. 

Time and years do not destroy fond love's immor- 
tal ties ; ; 
We think of them in midnight honrs, 
In dreams as sweet as fragrant flowers, 

With love that never dies. 

The ceaseless stream on which they glide may 
touch some other shore ; 

None e'er return from whence they are gone ; 

Their lives and love may still live on, 
Though seen by us no more. 




83 



EZRA DEY. 

Have yon ever heard of Ezra Dey? 

He was all right in every way, 

Except that his left leg, somehow, was rather 

Shorter, bnt slightly than the other. 

Xow. he had no faith in his own prayers; 

So he went to see a ]vlrs. Freyers, 

AVho cured all things for every one. 

By simply praying till the work was done. 

She claimed her treating had the strength 
To make both legs of equal length. 
"It may take quite a while," said she, 
"To cure your slight deformity." 
For a certain sum the woman agreed 
To treat him till he had no need 
Of walking stick or very thick sole, 
Upon one side to make him whole. 

His faith in the woman grew stronger and stronger 

As he found his left leg growing longer; 

And ere six months had rolled around, 

Ezra Dey had really found 

Both legs of equal length and sound. 



84 



EZRA DEY. 



"A handsome man," said many a lass, 
And nodded and blushed as they saw him pass ; 
But at length he found there was something- 
wrong — 
His left leg getting a little too long; 
And he hurried away, as any man would, 
To see the woman as soon as he could. 
In order to get her to stop her prayer. 
He called at her home, and she was not there. 
He went to the burg where they said she had gone. 
And there he learned she had still moved on. 

He could not find where the woman had gone, 
So his second deformity still grew on ; 
And still the woman prayed away, 
With his leg getting longer every day. 

He used a stilt on the other side, 
And he walked so tall that it humbled his pride. 
His plight grew worse and worse and worse — 
And the woman not there to stop the curse. 

Longer and longer grew his limb, 

And still the woman treated him : 

It lengthened away at such a rate 

That a doctor wanted to amputate. 

He searched, inquired, and went the rounds 

Of many Miami V^alley towns ; 



85 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY 



Then advertised and found Mrs. Freyers ; 
And told her he needed no longer her prayers ; 
And like a good patient he paid up his bill ; 
And then was released from her wonderful skill. 
His long leg and stilt he will try to endure, 
Rather than risk any more of her cure. 
He prays for himself now, and prays with care ; 
And as soon as he's answered he stops his prayer. 

Ezra Dey is an excellent man ; 
If you get to heaven he surely can: 
There all deformities pass away 
In that great world of blissful day. 



86 



THE BEGINNING OF DAYTON. 

The Great Miami shone and flashed 

Beneath a golden sun ; 
The stormy winter was no more, 

And springtime had begun. 

Pushed on by Thompson's sturdy arms, 

The pirogue wound its way. 
The river sang to him its song 

Just as it sings to-day. 

Eleven souls there were on board ; 

And with their household goods, 
They came to cast their fortune in 

The wild and northern woods. 

They stemmed the current every day, 

And when the evening came, 
They tied the pirogue to a tree 

And camped beside the stream. 

They caught the tame, unwary fish 

Beneath the moving tide ; 
They killed the deer that grazed unscared 

Upon the riverside. 



87 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

And roasted them before a flame 

Which fed on brush and brier ; 
They wound their bread aroinid a reed, 

And baked it by the fire. 

At night the wolves howled round their camp 

They saw the deer stalk by ; 
The owls never ceased to hoot ; 

They heard the panther's cry. 

At morn they loosed again their boat 

Beneath a gander's scream. 
The green frogs sang their notes of bass 

And jumped into the stream. 

The ducks flew up before the boat, 

All dripping with the tide. 
The killdeers waded in the sand 

Along the riverside. 

The reptiles and each bird and beast 

Along ^Miami's shore, 
AA'atched a strange phenomenon 

They knew not of before. 

In the sunshine on lagoons 

The turtles were afloat, 
And bass jumped up from in the stream 

And fell into the boat. 





o 

\^ 

Q 
< 

< 
in 



Q 

<; 



H 



w ^ 



THE BEGINNING OF DAYTON. 



Again they turned their boat to shore, 

Amid a tangled wild ; 
The swelling buds were nodding 

To a south wind soft and mild. 



The vines hung down from leaning trees 

And trailed amid the tide. 
A Shawnee watched the party land 

From on the other side. 



The place was where three rivers joined ; 

The morning bright and fair. 
The forest soon awakened with 

Their axes ringing there. 

The din of industry had come, 

And trees began to fall, 
To start a house upon the shore, 

And large enough for all. 

With clapboards placed and doors unhung. 

And puncheon floor not done, 
They moved their families into it ; 

And Dayton was begun. 

And overhead, the giant trees 

Began their leafy green, 
Through which the sunshine now and then 

Would kiss the roof between. 



91 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY 

Fond warblers sang on every hand 
Their songs of welcome there, 

And up and down the river bank 
An Indian trail lay bare. 

They heard Alad River greet ]\Iiami, 

AMth its song of charms ; 
They saw it coming like a child 

Unto its mother's arms. 

They saw Stillwater winding on 

Its way in perfect peace, 
And heard its mumbling waters talk 

In tones that never cease. 

They saw where it surrenders all 

Unto Aliami's tide, 
V\ hich welcomes home her own true love 

To never more divide. 

They saw Woli Creek, the tiny stream; 

They heard its murmuring cry ; 
And heard ]\Iiami singing it 

A low sweet lullaby. 

And may Thompson and ]\IcClure 

And \ an Cleve still live on 
In memory for their journey 

In an age which now is gone ; 



92 



THE BEGINNING OF DAYTON. 

And may Miami not forget 

The days of long ago ; 
And may her waters never cease 

Upon their endless flow. 

The shores are changed ; that life is gone 
Which nature loved and gave, 

And in its place the factories groan 
And corn and wheat fields wave; - 

Bnt still its waters shine and flash 

And pause and rest and flow. 
It sings the same glad song it sang 

To Thompson long ago. 




93 



TO THE MIAMI. 

Flow on ! Flow on, sweet River ! 

Flow on in endless course ! 
A thousand fountains gushing 

And trickling from their source ! 
A thousand rills are winding ; 

They sparkle, bubble and gleam ; 
Then hand in hand united 

They march as one great stream. 

Flow on ! Flow on, sweet River ! 

Thy waters soon are gone ; 
But then they live forever 

And glide forever on. 
The warm sun shines above thee. 

The bright stars twinkle there. 
The flowers that know thee, love thee, 

And breathe thy balmy air. 

Flow on ! Flow on, sweet River ! 

With waters soft and fair ! 
Fair as the sky above thee ! 

And soft as the morning air ! 
They sing a low contralto. 

And whisper words of love. 
To the rocks that know the music 

And vines that smile above. 




THE MIAMI AS IT IS NOW AT DAYTON 



TRADITIONS OF THE MIAMI VALLEY. 

Flow on ! Flow on, sweet River ! 

Never in pain or strife ! 
Teach to me the secret 

Of thy long and peaceful life : 
The ages glide like moments ; 

The centuries pass away, 
And like a child thy waters 

Still laugh and sing and play ! 

Flow on ! Flow on, fair River ! 

Flow on forever more ! 
The unborn generations 

Will tread thy grassy shore ; 
Each will have his sorrow 

That no one else will know. 
And feel his heart grow lighter 

To see thy waters flow. 




96 




< 



iHtfirrUattfDUH 



VOICES GONE. 

A robin sang in an apple tree ; 

His humble home was small, 
But his voice was sweet and his song was free. 
And he warbled away his melody 

From springtime until fall. 

The flowers that bloomed in summertime 

Had passed away from sight, 
But he stayed and lingered and sang his song 
Till the winds blew chill and the nights grew long, 

And then he took his flight : 

He flew away to the sunny south 

And left his dear old home. 
There to rejoice again and swing. 
And warble aw^ay in the breath of spring. 

Where orange blossoms bloom. 

As robin mocked and swung away 

x^nd warbled in the breeze, 
A sweet soul sang glad songs each day ; 
She sang of a land far, far away, 

And touched the ivory keys. 



101 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



Her cheeks were as the pale pink roses 

Blooming round the door. 
Her brow was fair as the lilies knew; 

Her voice was sweet and her life was true; 
We hear that voice no more. 

The birds will come again and sing 

\\ hen stormy days are o'er ; 
But she who sang while the robin sang, 
And took her flight while his music rang, 

A\^ill come back nevermore. 

She may sing on in some fair land 

Her glad, glad songs again ; 
For He who gave her life and breath 
And loved and kept her until death, 

Could not forsake her then. 



102 



A PALE ROSE. 

A pale rose lived and breathed and grew, 
And blessed with love all that it knew. 
It knew no hate, no sin, no pain. 
God gave it breath and sun and rain. 
It was so sweet. It looked so fair. 
It nodded and danced in God's free air. 
It swung and danced and nodded and smiled, 
And blessed the world as God's own child. 

It swung and danced in bowers of green. 
'Twas fed and clothed by a hand unseen. 
It glowed in splendor and drank the dew, 
And dropped asleep when the fall winds blew. 
Where the pale rose bloomed, no rose is found, 
And the vines sleep low in a snowdrift mound, 
And the nights are long, and the fierce winds blow, 
And the sun shines cold on a world of snow. 



103 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



Tlic rose will ])l(t()ni ai;"ain and swini;" 
'Xcalh a fairer sky, in the breath of spring; 
And lie. whose hand is ever^-where, 
\A'lio lias the ll(n\ers in II is eare, 
Awakes them with the breath of spring- 
That they may bloom again and swing, 
\\ ill giN'e me baek again some ckn' 
M}^ springtime life that's passed awa}-. 




104 



THE THRUSH AND THE KATYDID. 

A thrush sang near a window, and he sang the 
summer long. 

His notes were shrill but gentle, and he warbled 
with his song. 

His voice was sweet as honey and as clear as ever 
was known, 

And no other bird could warble forth a more melo- 
dious tone. 

He sang of the flowers in the garden, and he sang 

of the fields of rye. 
He sang of his home in the willow tree. He sang 

of the lawn and sky. 
He sang of a bright and sunny land where he would 

go some day. 
Across the wide deep water and the mountains far 

away. 

With salt sea breezes blowing over mountain and 

o'er hill, 
With days as fair as fair blue flowers, and nights 

that are always still. 



105 



MISCELLAXEOUS. 



They never chill in winter, for they have no winter 

there, 
And flowers bloom forever with their fragrance 

fresh and rare. 

He sang his solos o'er one day : the sweet bird 

rested then. 
And listened to a katydid play on his violin. 
They then became familiar, and each morn at break 

of day, 
The bird would sing his solos while the katy played 

away : 

The katy played, *'0 foolish bird I Why do yon sing 
so strange? 

AMiy sing of things so far away beyond your nat- 
ural range? 

There is no home but this for us, and if there were 
to be. 

You could not reach it on your flight for moun- 
tains, gulf and sea ; 

"So I will eat and drink and dance, and with the 

smnmer o'er, 
A\'ill drop to sleep in autumn to awaken never 

more. 



106 



THE THRUSH AND THE KATYDID 



I drink the nectar of the dew ; I feast both night 

and day, 
And play upon my violin and dance my life 

away." 

The bird would not be pacified ; but still he sang of 

home 
Be3^ond the sea and mountains, where the flowers 

forever bloom. 
He made great preparations, and he drilled for his 

long flight : 
He trained his pinions through the day and rested 

through the night. 

"I am waiting only waiting; and when I shall hear 
the call. 

Then I must leave you, katy dear, forever and for 
all; 

But I will have that Presence ever through the great 
unknown. 

That guides upon all journeys and that leads for- 
ever on. 

"Come, go with me, O katydid; you play and I will 

sing; 
And we will both be happy there amid eternal 

spring." 



107 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



''Life is short and dear to me; I have no time," he 

said, 
"To train and drill for such a flight that never can 

be made ; 
Stay at home, O songster, and be happy while you 

may ; 
There are no happy islands over yonder far 

away." 

One fair bright day in autumn time the katy played 

alone ; 
There was no song to his music, for the dear sweet 

bird had flown. 



lOS 



ETERNAL PROVIDENCE. 

A wonderful mill is nature : 

Eternal buhrs turn round : 
Things we know and see to-day, 
To-morrow, will be crushed to clay 

And back to vapor ground. 

A wonderful builder is nature ; 

It knows no droning shirk : 
It builds from vapor and from clay : 
It replaces the things of yesterday 

And never ceases work. 

There is language in all nature ; 

I hear it and rejoice: 
As long as time and the seasons run, 
It will speak of a great and Infinite One, 

In a still and silent voice. 

There is music in allnature, 

And all things play their tune ; 
They have played away since God unfurled 
The milky way, the sun, and w^orld 

Revolving with its moon. 



109 



MISCELLANEOUS. 

All nature sings a chorus. 

The one it has simg so long; 
It sings of One who is divine ; 
It touches a chord in this soul of mine. 

That vibrates with the song : 

And nature glows with colors ; 

They blend in richness fair : 
The rocks, the leaves, the flowers that blow 
And in the sky the bright rainbow 

Reflects a wisdom there. 

The great time piece of nature 

A\'ill cease its running never — 
The orbits with their swinging spheres. 
Keeping the time of endless years, 

Were Avotmd up once forever. 

Shine on I O stars of heaven ! 

From your high and distant place ! 
Hanging safely in the care 
Of One who placed and swings you there, 

Throughout an endless space ! 

O great and wondrous nature I 

But greater still is He 
AMio made matter, time and space. 
And nature in its endless pace, 



With long eternity 



110 



ETERNAL PROVIDENCE. 

His ways cannot be known by us, 

Or by us understood, 
Yet with Him all our future lies, 
But then He is so great and wise 

That He can be but good. 

With naught too vast or small to be 

Beyond His power and might, 
His love and care are over all : 
The flower may fade, the sparrow fall, 
But never from his sight. 




Ill 



THE THRUSH. 

There is no voice like the voice of the thrush, 

For no others sing hke he. 
There is no other music, no matter how sweet. 

That equals his rich melody. 

His voice is as sweet as honey to me, 

And as clear as the azure above ; 
And his heart is as light as the soft winds that blow 

While he warbles his gladness and love. 

Do you love music ? Just listen to him 

And hear his great harmony roll ; 
His song gushes forth like a fountain of joy 

Too great to contain in his soul. 

His voice is as free as the air that we breathe, 

And as glad as a morning of spring. 
Aly soul runs over in joy with the bird 

Wlien I hear his sweet melody ring. 



112 



THE THRUSH. 



He throws his whole soul in the song that he sing? 

To hear him is but to rejoice ; 
His language is free and as blameless from sin 

As the God who hath given him voice. 

He comes with the flowers that love him so well, 
And his glad song never grows old ; 

He goes with the flowers when summer is past, 
And the nights grow" chilly and cold. 

The choirs may sing, and the great bands play ; 

But none make music as he. 
There is no other music, no matter how sweet, 

That equals his rich melody. 

The bird brings heaven right down to the earth, 
As he warbles and sings the day long; 

O pity the one whose ear is so dull 
As to not be inspired by his song. 

And after the winter so cold and so long, 
When loved ones are gone with the flowers, 

He comes proclaiming the dawning of spring. 
To gladden the lone weary hours ; 



113 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



And what does he sing? and what does he say? 

You have heard him, and can you tell yet ? 
He sings of the love and the greatness of One 

Who will never forsake nor forget ; 

And when I pass onward to never return, 

When the angels invite me along, 
May the last music I hear in this world 

Be the thrush a-singing his song. 




114 



THE SCROLL OF TIME. 

O endless scroll of time unwind and glide away 
forever, 

Bearing the sorrows of the human race 

Into the past with ceaseless pace, 
To where they come back never ! 

All pleasures, joy, and gladness, are also carried on; 

They cannot linger ; they cannot stay ; 

On the endless scroll they are carried away, 
And are forever gone. 

It brings to-morrow with all things new, for yes- 
terday is gone. 

It brings the sick man his relief; 

It carries away his pain and grief. 
And glides forever on. 

Even the convict in his cell, awaits a better day ; 

For time unwinds him a bright to-morrow ; 

His pain and aches and stain and sorrow 
Are carried forever away. 



115 



MISCELLANEOUS. 

It brings a change to everything, the rocks, the 
trees, the brook ; 
It comes to the innocent child at play, 
And stamps a change on him every day, 

And gives him an older look. 



O endless scroll of time unwind and glide, and 
cease thou never. 

Out from eternities endless day, 

Back to eternity stretching away. 
Unwinding and gliding forever ! 

O time, thou endless scroll, unwind ! Unwind the 
coming years ! 
May each succeeding morning dawn 
Brighter and fairer than each one gone, 

More free from pain and tears. 

Each season is succeeded in its turn, and then is 
gone ; 

They cannot linger ; they cannot stay ; 

On the endless scroll they are carried away, 
And pass forever on. 

The flowers that bloomed but yesterday, to-morrow. 
will be gone ; 
But other flowers as sweet and fair 
Will breathe their fragrance to the air 

As the scroll of time glides on. 



116 



THE SCROLL OF TIME. 

Unwind and glide and bear away our sorrows and 
our stain; 

May they be removed at last, 

Farther and farther into the past, 
To never return again. 

Time may bring still greater joys than those now 
past and gone ; 

And may we, like a child at play, 

Fear not, but trust each coming day 
As the endless scroll glides on. 

The scroll of time will not reverse and bring back 
yesterday ; 

'Twill never bring back what is gone. 

Although it glides forever on. 
It only glides one way. 



117 



WHAT DOES H ALLEY SAY? 



O lone untiring pilgrim. 
So far away and high ! 

And with a banner streaming 
Above the midnight sky ! 



A radiant flag of brightness 
Unfurled amid the stars, 

And shining in its splendor 
A\'ith brilliant crimson bars ! 

It hangs upon the comet 
Like a woven veil of light, 

And trails amid the heavens, 
And lightens up the night. 

A fabric fine and silken. 

Fairer than sunbeams know, 
Fairer than earthly flowers 

That beckon from below. 

How few, of all who see you, 
\\\\\ live to be here when 

You spread your downy skylight 
Above this world again! 

118 



WHAT DOES HALLEY SAY t 

O tell me, tell me, Halley, 
Why is it that you never 

Rest upon your journey, 
But travel on forever? 

Upon an endless journey, 
Why is it that you roam? 

With other stars fixed gracefully, 
Why do you have no home? 

And you have always traveled 
E'er since there has been light. 

And have seen many wonders 
Upon your ceaseless flight, 

With other worlds beneath you ; 

And you so far have been, 
The journey took you over 

Three score years and ten. 

O have you seen a city, 
In traveling on your way. 

One that lasts forever 
And has eternal day? 

The gates are twelve in number ; 

The streets are paved with gold ; 
And ever for the righteous 

The pearly gates unfold. 



119 



MISCELLANEOUS. 

O have you heard the music 
And heard the angels sing, 

And seen the hghts of the city, 
And have you seen the King? 

O have you on your pathway, 
Where foot of man ne'er trod, 

Seen a Supreme Being 

The human race call God? 

You speak in awful silence, 
In answer to my prayer : 

Your folds so soft and silken 
Portray great riddles there 

With many things unsolved 
Upon that sheet of light ; 

They may be of that city, 

Whose gates are pearly white ; 

But on your veil so lovely, 
I read of an Infinite One — 

The same great name imprinted 
On all things under the sun. 

And may I ever trust Him 
Whose name is written there, 

Confiding in His wisdom 
And in His love and care. 

120 



WHAT DOES HALLEY SAY? 

O Spread your banner, Halley, 
Above the starry skies ! 

And may it tell forever 

That God is great and wise ! 

O spread your banner, Halley, 

A token from above, 
An emblem of His greatness. 

His goodness, and His love ! 

O spread your banner, Halley, 
Until we see and know 

The riddles of the heavens, 
And of the earth below ! 

O spread your banner, Halley ! 

O wave it all unfurled 
High above the heavens, 

And o'er a skeptic world ! 

O spread your banner, Halley ! 

You journey long and far, 
But keep the great flag floating. 

No matter where you are ! 



121 



g'Dttga of tlj^ WtBt 



THE LAND OF THE WESTERN PLAIN 

Away out west where prairie lands 
Stretch out hke a boundless ocean, 

And the wild grass waves on a treeless world 
In a breeze forever in motion, 

Beneath a concave arch of blue. 

From morning until night, 
The blazing sun like a ball of fire. 

Sends down its golden light; 

And when it comes up in the east. 

It comes up from the plain ; 
And on a wild and desert waste 

It sinks to earth again ; 

And when the sun sinks on the plain 

The stars shed down their light 
Like jewels sparkling in the sky. 

All through the western night. 

Away out west where prairie winds 

Blow o'er a boundless plain. 
And the wild flowers weave a carpet 

Of a blue and crimson stain. 



125 



SOXGS OF THE WEST. 

Like a prisoned child, I long to go ; 

I long to be again 
Wliere prairie grasses wave and toss 

On the wild and western plain. 

I love the western fields of grain 
Tossing and nodding and swaying; 

Like waves and spray and billows are they 
Upon an ocean playing. 

I love the land of the chaparral. 

Where the jackrabbit knows no fear. 

And the quail's voice and the pheasant's note 
Is ever in the ear ; 

Where Indians and buffalo 

Have roamed for countless years, 

And where the sunflower smiles upon 
The cacti with their spears ; 

Away out west where the wild coyote 
And the gray wolf howl in vain. 

To make the nights seem weary and lone 
Far out on the western plain ; 

And the copperhead rattles in the grass, 

A\^ith a hope to frighten back. 
Any pursuers encroaching too near 

L'pon his dangerous track. 



126 



THE LAND OF THE WESTERN PLAIN. 

And there are the grim and tramping herds ; 

Like marching armies they go, 
And the cowboy rides with magical skill, 

And whirls his long lasso. 

I long for the wide horizon there 

Unmarred by tree or hill, 
Circling away where the sky comes down, 

And a wind that never is still. 

My heart still clings to that fairy land. 

And o'er and o'er again 
I see it still in memory's dreams — 

The land of the western plain. 



127 



THE CHIXOOK JllXD. 

I blow from fall till spring-time, and I come from 

smmy seas; 
I fan the western mountains with a soft and gentle 

breeze. 

I ride the rolling waters ; the Pacific is my 

home ; 
And where I touch its shores, the flowers forevci' 

bloom. 

With sport of joy and happiness, I play on northern 
hihs; 

I melt the snow upon them to a thousand gushing- 
rills. 

The rains are warm I carry, and the people love the 

showers 
That patter on their roofs at night all through the 

long, dark hours. 

I swell the winding rivers, and they leap with joy 
and glee, 

And they sing upon their journeys from the moun- 
tains to the sea. 



128 



THE CHINOOK WIND. 

The wild fowls greet my coming ; for they love llie 

soft sea breeze ; 
And where I touch the northern zone the waters 

never freeze. 

The great ships love my coming ; they await with 

sails unfurled, 
And I rock them like a cradle, with the commerce 

of the world. 







m^m'^^ 



MOUNT RAINIER 
See Page 130 



129 



SONGS OF THE WEST. 

They plow the briny waters, riding safely in my 

care; 
They soar upon their journeys like a bird upon the 

air. 

I love the western mountains, with affection yet 

untold ; 
My breath is soft and balmy, and I kiss away the 
cold. 

Rainier awaits my coming north, and she is dear to 

me; 
She tells me all about time; I talk of the stormy 

sea ; 

And if I cease in winter time, then she is lone and 

cold, 
And dons an extra blanket of a whiter, thicker 

fold. 

The firs await my coming with their majesty and 

grace ; 
With outstretched arms they greet me, and they 

know my warm embrace. 

No snow storms in my presence, and no cyclones in 

my track. 
Every year I travel northward, but I never travel 

back. 



130 




AND THEY SING UPON THEIR JOURNEYS FROM THE 
MOUNTAINS TO THE SEa" 



See Page 128 also 135 



MOUNT BAKER. 

With the floating clouds around her, 
Sits Mount Baker old and gray ; 

You can see her o'er The Sisters, 
Looking down upon the bay. 

She has treasures in her bosom ; 

And her purse is ever full ; 
x-\nd she wears a cloak around her 

That's as white as carded wool ; 

And 'tis set with icy jewels, 

And they glisten in the light, 
And the robe she wears at Christmas 

Is of soft and downy white. 

'Round her head is hoary winter ; 

On her brow the frost is seen, 
While the Chinook Wind plays round her, 

O'er a carpet ever green ; 



133 



SONGS OF THE WEST. 

And the wild drake cools his bosom, 
And the wild geese cleanse their down 

At the lakes and streams and fountains 
In the shadow of her crown ; 

And she beckons to the sailors 
As they ride the briny blue, 

And they hail her in the distance 
When they see her come in view ; 

And the sunset lingers on her 
O'er the early shades of night, 

While the twilight darkens round her, 
And the sun has sunk from sight. 

She was born by fire and earthquake, 
In the early days of yore ; 

And her history is written 
On her metals and her ore. 

It is written on the tables 

That have fallen from her hand, 

And geology can read it 
In the riddles of the sand. 

And beyond her gates of granite — 
Flinty gates that now unfold, — 

It is with her hidden treasure. 
In the vaults that hold her gold. 



134 



MOUNT BAKER. 

They may take her golden treasure, 
Coal, and cedar, and her fir : 

They may take away her riches, 
But they cannot humble her : 

She will still look down the Nooksack 
In the same majestic way. 

Like a guardian angel watching 
O'er the valley, shore, and bay. 




135 



THE SALMON. 

Hatched in the inland waters 

Where the currents laugh and play, 

A few. days only to linger, 
And then they swim away. 

They leave their home of childhood 
So glad and dear and free, 

And start upon their journey 
To the wide and deep blue sea; 

They follow down the current, 
They do not wait nor stay, 

Upon their long, long journey 
That leads them far away. 

The great and deep Pacific 

That knows no sleep nor rest, 

Receives the tiny minnows 
And folds them to her breast. 

Somewhere within her waters, 
Nor mortal man doth know, 

She loves and keeps and feeds them ; 
They live and play and grow. 



136 



THE SALMON. 

Down in the deep blue ocean 
For three long 3^ears they roam ; 

They then turn back to the rivers- 
Back to their native home. 

The pearls down in the water, 
O'er which they swim and play, 

Or the rainbow of the heaven, 
Is not arrayed like they. 

The precious ores of ^Mexico, 

Or Klondyke far away. 
Do not produce a brilliancy 

]\Iore radiant than they ; 

But on their homeward journey, 
The foes of their life are great, 

And danger and death and peril. 
Their coming home await : 

The whales pursue, and blackfish ; 

And greedy sharks await 
To slay them while returning. 

Before they reach The Strait. 

The traps around Point Roberts 
And Hales Pass are strong; 

The fishing boats are steaming 
And busy all day long; 



137 



SONGS OF THE WEST. 

With barges rocking seaward, 
To bear the freight away; 

And seals are waiting hungry 
To feast upon their prey. 

Courageous, stout and powerful, 

Upon their journey home, 
When in the great nets lifted 

They churn the brine to foam. 

To the very mouths of the rivers, 

By foes they are pursued. 
Their throats are closed by nature. 

And they nevermore taste food. 

With courage still undaunted 

They on and onward go, 
Ascending through the rapids 

Like an arrow from a bow. 

On up the wide deep river, 
Pursuing their watery track, 

Going upon a journey 

That nevermore turns back. 

Down in the bed of the river 

They make their homes and spawn ; 

They live there like a patriot, 
And nevermore move on. 



138 



THE SALMON. 

They chase the trout of the river 
That eat their eggs as food, 

With other foes there lurking 
That may devour their brood. 

They guard their homes with vigilance. 

Though weak and lean and thin. 
Their radiant color has faded, 

And next they lose a fin. 

They stay at the post of duty 

Until their life is gone ; 
They die on guard like a hero, 

And the current bears them on. 

And when my life has trials 
And dangers that are great, 

I think of the brave salmon. 
Their perils and their fate ; 

And like those gallant fishes 

That know no vanquished pride, 

May I, too, stick to duty 
Until I drift with the tide. 



139 



JUN 22 m2 






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